Gold Fever
by fbi-woman
Summary: A story about Marisa Coulter’s past. Will eventually be MCLA. WIP.
1. Chapter 1

Title: TBA  
Author: fbi-woman  
Rating: K / PG or whatever for now  
Type: His Dark Materials, pre-trilogy  
Spoilers: You should probably read The Golden Compass first unless you already know the history between Marisa, Lyra, and Asriel.

Disclaimer: I own nothing and I'm not claiming to. This is just an original work inspired by a book series.  
Summary: A story about Marisa Coulter's past. Will eventually be MC/LA.  
A/N: Except for a couple little poems, this is my first real HDM fic. I am not an expert on the books at all, but I did my best to check my facts so I wouldn't contradict what information we're given. The only thing I have changed is that the descriptions of the character will be based on how they appear in the movie. Please no flaming, I'm doing my best.

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Alone in her room, twelve year old Marisa Madsen sat on her bed listening to bustling activity in the hallway outside. Her daemon switched between forms restlessly, sharing her boredom. Without a sound, she tiptoed over to the door in her nightgown and bare feet, pressing her ear against the wood.

"Go and look outside" she whispered.

Her daemon instantly became a tiny brown mouse, slipping through the crack between the door and the floor. Watching carefully for hurried passing feet, he scurried down the hallway until he felt that familiar pull marking his limit. She wanted him to keep going, this he knew, but he hated to cause her pain. After a moment's hesitation, he continued forward, fighting the invisible force, but it was no use. He saw a servant turn sharply at the end of the hallway and realized he was much too far away from their destination to get there without Marisa. Turning around, he raced back to the door as fast as his tiny feet could carry him and slid back under. Safely inside, he changed into a dog and licked her face apologetically.

"You didn't see anything?"

He shook his head sadly.

She stared down at her feet dejectedly but did not leave the door.

"I guess we could –"

A sharp bark cut her short.

"Shhh! You'll get us in trouble!" After an apologetic whimper from her daemon, she continued. "I don't see why we can't just go pretend to look for mother and father, and if we happen to see something while we're looking, we see something."

He had a bad feeling about this. They had debated this plan many times recently and he knew it was only a matter of time before curiosity got the better of both of them.

"Come on, I know you want to, and how much trouble can it really cause? I promise we won't be gone long."

Grudgingly he nodded, giving in to her darkest desires as he always did. Marisa loved to see how far she could push both herself and others. He shrank into a sparrow, flying up to perch on her shoulder while she slowly opened the door.

Looking both ways, she found the path was clear, and they darted down the hall, racing for the end. Marisa's heart was pounding with exhilaration. They were so close now. She was about to see what had been kept from her for twelve whole years. And then it all came crashing down. The door to the downstairs kitchen swung open, stopping her in her tracks. Her father stood only steps from her, holding a large silver tray with a shiny, round lid.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry? I thought you supposed to be in bed."

"I was looking for mom!" she blurted.

He raised an eyebrow skeptically, "really?"

"Honest I was!"

"Hmm…" he studied her for a minute, "well alright then. She's downstairs."

"Okay, thanks."

Neither person moved. Marisa realized her father intended to watch her go downstairs, not believing her quite as much as he claimed. Suppressing a sigh, she smiled innocently at him and skipped down the stairs into the hot, steamy kitchen. Stumbling through the whirlwind of bodies and carts, she finally caught the edge of her mother's skirt.

"Hey honey, I thought you went to bed, what's going on?"

"I just thought you could use some help."

"I think we've got everything under control down here, hon."

"What about upstairs? I can put on a dress and carry a tray."

Her mother looked down at her sternly. "You know the rules Marisa. You are not to be involved in these gatherings."

Marisa stubbornly placed her hands on her hips. "But why? I'm old enough now, aren't I? I won't drop anything, you know I won't! And I'll be very good and polite!"

"The answer is still no. I'll tell you again, Marisa: one day you will be able to go, and when the time comes, your father and I will tell you."

The little sparrow flapped his wings angrily. "I think you're lying!" she cried, "I think you're going to keep me hidden away forever! You don't want anyone to know I even exist!"

"That's not true honey. I wish you could go to the party, but trust me, it's for your own good that you don't. When it is time, you will go. I can promise you that."

Marisa turned and stomped off to the shadowy corner beneath the stairs to sulk. What was so special that they didn't want her to see? It wasn't fair. She'd been patient her whole life. Her daemon pecked at the walls, scratching the floor with his tiny talons. Footsteps of several servers shook the wooden stairs above her head and she suddenly had an idea. Scooping up her daemon, she placed him back on her shoulder and made her way to the base of the stairs, immersing herself in a group of uniformed individuals carrying trays. They were beginning their ascent now, and she glanced quickly over at her mother, relieved to find her focused on something in oven. Masked by the other workers, Marisa made it all the way back up to the hallway without being caught. She hung back now, feigning a turn towards her bedroom until they were rounding the mysterious corner. With lightning speed she shot forward after them, getting down on her hands and knees at the edge of the opening. Her jaw dropped and she was sure her heart skipped a beat when she peered around the bend.

There was gold everywhere; the walls, the furniture, the people, even the rug. Everyone was in elegant, formal attire. Glorious daemons stood proudly next to each person, glancing around the room nonchalantly. Glasses clinked and the gentle hum of conversation filled the room. Her parents' coworkers expertly floated across the floor, offering exotic looking hors d'oeuvres or refilling champagne flutes. A couple strode into her line of sight, only mere feet away, but the glittering chain of gold on the woman's wrist held Marisa firmly in place. She had never seen anything so beautiful. She had to have one. There was no question about that. One day she would be that woman: she would wear a fancy dress with gold caressing her skin for all the others to see.

Whether it was from sheer willpower or a miraculous coincidence, as the woman linked arms with her companion to walk away, the clasp of her bracelet came undone. The gleaming band tumbled to the floor in front of her eyes and a golden monkey leapt forward, snatching it up with nimble claws. He scampered back over to her, laying his prize in front of her. She lifted it from the ground and closed her hands around the warm metal. It was hers now. Hers forever. Getting up, she shot one last look into the room to find a young man's gaze fixed directly on her. Her eyes widened in fear yet her monkey daemon snarled with malice, prepared to fight for the trinket. The man strolled towards her with a smile but she tore down the hallway towards her room, blonde curls flying, and never looked back.

Safely behind the closed door, Marisa clamored up onto her bed, panting. The monkey jumped up beside her and she stroked his soft fur with one hand while admiring her new acquisition sitting on the palm of the other.

She looked up at the monkey. "We shouldn't have taken it." She paused, then stretched her arm forward. "Will you put it on me?"

He deftly clipped the two ends together, encasing her wrist in gold. She smiled and shook her hand from side to side, watching the bracelet bounce and refract the moonlight from her window against the wall. Footsteps approached her door and she quickly shoved her hand under her pillow, laying down and pretending to sleep. The door opened slightly, a beam of warm light falling across her body. It remained still for a moment before closing again without a sound. Opening one eye, Marisa could see they were alone once again. She stood up quietly, creeping over to her dresser. Pulling out the bottom drawer, she extracted a lone sock, whose partner never returned from the laundry, and dropped the bracelet inside, knotting the top of the sock afterwards. She buried it beneath the others and carefully slid the drawer closed before crawling back into bed. The monkey curled up next to her, just beneath her pillow, and she absentmindedly trailed her fingers through the golden strands of fur until she drifted to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Marisa's mother came to wake her early the next morning, already back to work after a long, stressful night. The Lord had promised them the day off, but when dessert had been served several minutes late, the luxury was withdrawn. Thankfully she had expected him to find fault and provide said punishment, so she hadn't bothered to tell Marisa. This sort of behavior was unfortunately common for the Lord and his wife, and every time she was forced to face the disappointment her daughter tried so hard to conceal; the same anger and disillusionment she had seen in the child's outburst last night.

She placed a hand on the slumbering girl's shoulder and shook her gently, whispering in her ear. "Marisa sweetheart, it's time to get up for breakfast."

The golden monkey growled as Marisa buried her face deeper in the pillow.

"Come on honey, I want to talk to you for a minute before you go wash up. Sit up please."

Marisa sighed and grudgingly pushed herself upright, brushing back her messy blonde curls to reveal the angry expression on her face. The monkey crawled into her lap, wrapping his arms possessively around one of hers.

"I'm sorry I didn't get to talk to you about this last night," her mother began, "but you understand how hectic it gets with these parties. Your father came by after dinner was served, but you were already asleep. Now you were very upset last night that you didn't get to go to the party, weren't you?"

Her words met a silent, steely glare.

"I know you like you help us and the other servants, but the parties are different. I know you want to see what you're missing, and I'm sorry. All I can tell you is that one day you will see. I would swear it upon my life. A party is no place for a child of any age, and we want your first party to be special. We've been planning it ever since you were born. As soon as you're grown, you may go, but you have to wait until then. It isn't easy, I realize that, and I would change it if I could, but that is how it must be."

Marisa never broke eye contact and never spoke a word. Her daemon remained motionless, wearing the same scowl on his dark features.

Her mother looked down at her hands for a minute before reaching under the bed, retrieving a book wrapped in brown paper. "Your father left this here for you last night. It's a new book about metaphysics. I know your education is not always interesting to you, but I assure you, it is important, and you will thank us for it one day."

She glanced at the book with slight disdain, finally removing her arm from her daemon's grasp to accept it. Placing it to the side, she resumed her angry stare, but her mother was distracted, focused in on the golden monkey.

"Marisa, has your daemon settled?"

Finally, she spoke. "Yes. Why?"

Her mother's face lit up and she threw her arms around the pair. "Oh my dear, this is just wonderful! Your father and I were so worried that you would have a dog daemon like ours. But this," she drew back to regard the monkey with tears in her eyes, "this is just perfect, Marisa. He is as stunning and unique as we had always hoped your daemon would be."

Marisa was perplexed by her mother's strange behavior. Sure, her daemon was different, but what did it matter? What would be wrong with her having a dog? Most of the staff had dog daemons, as did her parents, and they all seemed to be fine. Should she have been more concerned about the shape her daemon would take? She pulled the monkey closer to her body for reassurance. This is what she wanted. She wanted to stand out, wanted to be different from her parents. This was good. Even her mother thought it was good. Her golden monkey was right for her, and she loved him this way, loved him more than anything or anyone in the world.

"Oh Marisa," her mother continued to chatter, "just wait until your father sees this! He'll be so pleased. I need to go help him serve breakfast. You get cleaned up and we'll have breakfast waiting for you in the kitchen." She kissed her forehead, and paused, admiring the monkey one last time, then practically skipped out of the room.

Marisa looked down at her daemon with confusion, but he simply shrugged. She picked up the book and stashed it back under the bed, considering the possibility of opening it a little later. Wandering over to her little dresser, she pulled out one of her plain dresses and stuffed her feet into her bland, yet practical, shoes. Quickly changing into the oversized sage garment, she turned around and caught sight of her daemon holding a certain sock.

"Put that down!" she hissed, but he held it out to her instead. She pretended to consider his proposal, having decided on a response instantly. "Well, I suppose I could put it on for just minute."

She took the sock from him, withdrawing their golden treasure. It sparkled even brighter in the morning sun. She slipped in around her small wrist, twirling around the room with her daemon in an imaginary waltz.

"When do you think they'll have another party?" she asked, not giving time for an answer. "I hope it's soon. I want to have another look. If we can do it once, we can do it again, right?"

The monkey nodded.

She grinned. "Good, then it's settled. Come on, I've got to brush my teeth before breakfast gets cold." Carefully dropping the bracelet back into its sock container, she rolled it up and shoved it under her dresses. "Who knows, maybe we'll even find another one of those."


	3. Chapter 3

Marisa spent the morning of her eighteenth birthday like she spent any other: in her room with just her daemon for company, reading from a collection of used textbooks while wearing her stolen bracelet. Her parents now knew of its existence, but she had kept it secret for so long that there was little they could do to set things right without getting her into heaps of trouble. She was allowed to keep it as long as she never wore it outside her room, and she promised to never steal anything again. She had nodded and smiled like an angel, adding a ring and a single earring to her collection over the following months. They didn't understand these things. They never had anything glamorous; they didn't know how it felt to have a taste of the forbidden fruit. Besides, they were powerless to control her. They never turned her into the Lord of the house, not once, regardless of what rules she broke, and even if they did, Marisa was confident she could survive on her own. All she had here was a roof and food, and surely it wouldn't be hard to find those things. And besides, as she had quickly learned from toying with the male servants, most men will do anything for a pretty face.

There was another soiree tonight, and Marisa had spent days planning her spy mission. She desperately wanted a necklace for her collection. A necklace would be easy to hide under her clothes. Her parents had been keeping a tight watch on her however, complicating her search for a safe route to the ballroom. They were usually too busy to notice her before a big event, but now they were around every corner. Perhaps they had seen her peeking last time, or maybe they had found her other accessories. They knew something; that much was certain and she had to find out what. Just to be safe, she tucked her golden treasure into a different sock and buried it in a different drawer before darting out the door with her monkey in tow.

The hallway appeared vacant, but she knew it wouldn't be for long. Taking a deep breath, she sprinted down the hallway at full speed, halting the moment she rounded the corner and flattening her body against the wall. She looked both ways and took off again, her panting breaths and pounding footsteps echoing off the walls. She raced through the winding corridors until she reached the utility closet nearest the ballroom, where she stopped for a moment's rest. This was her final destination, and still no one had seen her. She was home free now. Inside the room, just beneath the ceiling, sat a vent that led to right to the ballroom. Luckily for her, a shelving unit stood right under this target, and the mechanic always left his tool box unlocked. With a few quick turns of a screwdriver, she could have the vent open and a clear passage. It was getting to be quite the tight squeeze though. She had almost gotten stuck last time, so hopefully she would still be able to fit. She reached out a hand to turn the knob, and to her dismay, the door swung open before she could touch it. There before her stood her father. What horrible luck.

"Marisa! What on earth are you doing over here?"

"I was just… looking for Albert: there's a loose floorboard in my room, I was hoping he could fix it for me."

"Oh, well not to worry, I'm sure he'll turn up soon. Good thing I ran into you though. Your mother wants to see you. She thought you were still in your room and didn't want to disturb you. She's in our quarters, don't keep her waiting now."

"No sir I won't."

"Good girl, hurry up then."

Marisa turned around, cursing under her breath, and headed back to her starting point. Now she wouldn't get a test run in the vent. If she couldn't fit tonight, she would be hard pressed to find another viewpoint before the party was over.

Though she knew it was a horrible truth, Marisa had grown weary of her mother through her adolescence. Marisa was a lady, but she could stand on her own two feet. Her mother always seemed weak to her; always needing her father to carry the heavier trays, falling ill more than most, napping away her days off. How frightfully dependant and boring. There was so much to learn, so much to that could be accomplished. Didn't she have any drive, any desires, any hunger for something more? How could she be content with their lives as they were when they were missing so much? Marisa never wanted to find herself like that. She liked to climb the ladder, and when she reached the top, she built another. There was always something new to learn, to take into your hands, to make your own.

She stared at the heavy wooden door in front of her which opened to her parents' room in the main servants' quarters. Her daemon tugged on her skirt, encouraging her to feign forgetfulness and simply retreat back to their haven, but she was here now, she might as well get it out of the way. She could only postpone the confrontation for so long.

The door opened to reveal her mother, facing her expectantly. "I've been waiting for you."

"I know." Marisa's tone was even, her voice absent of emotion.

"Sit down. I need to talk to you about tonight. It's very important."

She trudged over to the bed and perched on the edge, ready to dart out the door as soon as possible. "What about tonight?"

"Marisa dear, do remember the promise your father and I made to you?"

"I don't know; which one?"

"We told you that one day you would be allowed to go to one of the Lord's parties."

Her heart was pounding wildly now. "Yes."

"Today, you are a grown woman. It is time we let you out on your own. You will attend the event tonight."

Could her mother possibly be telling the truth? She couldn't sound too excited, just in case. "Really?"

"Yes. We told you the time would come, and it has arrived." She got up and walked over to the closet, picking up a large white box from the floor. "This is for you," she said, handing Marisa the box, "your father and I have been looking forward to this since the moment you were born."

Marisa lifted the lid to find a glorious midnight blue gown. She stood and held the fabric against her body: it was just the perfect size, cut with a low scoop both in front and behind, with a subtle shine in the right light.

"But I don't understand. I always thought I was going to be helping you serve."

"No, no dear. You will never have to carry a tray of drinks or appetizers. Not after tonight. This is why your father and I were adamant that you be kept out of sight from the Lord and his guests at all times; because we always intended for you to join them one day."

"Join them?"

"Yes. Tonight you will put on this dress, and I will fix your hair and makeup, and you will wear that bracelet of yours, and you will go to the party as a guest. You will tell no one of your life here. You grew up in the countryside and only just arrived in town. And you will find a nice gentleman to take care of you."

Marisa's eyes widened and the monkey leapt in front of her protectively. "What?"

"It's the only way Marisa. You don't belong here. You deserve better. I won't have you become another servant."

"But I don't want to be dependant on someone else to take care of me!"

"Marisa, your father and I have gone to great expense for this. If you are ever to do something we ask of you, this is it. You are young, and I know you're certain you can do this alone, but please, just do this one thing for us. Promise me you will charm a gentleman tonight and let him take care of you. What you do once you are settled is up to you, but you must choose your moves wisely. The politics of these people can be a dangerous game. All we ask is that you follow in an established man's shadow until you learn the game, and then, if you still wish to go out on your own, that is your choice. We only want the best for you." There were tears running down her face now. "Promise me Marisa. Promise me, and keep this promise."

Marisa merely nodded, for she had no words.

* * *

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

With ruby lips, charcoal lined eyes, immaculately pinned curls, and perfectly filed nails, Marisa stood outside the server's entrance to the grand ballroom, flanked by her parents. Though she would never admit it to them, she was terrified to carry out their plan. Sure, she could lie her way out of almost anything when it came to her parents or the other staff, but could she really convince these wealthy, prominent strangers that she was one of them? At this point, she supposed she had little choice left in the matter. Her father was slipping inside to make sure no one was watching, and her mother was weeping on her shoulder, clinging to her arm. Marisa, on the other hand, was simply numb. She clutched her trembling daemon to her chest, taking a deep breath and trying to slow her racing pulse. All she could remember was a burning desire to walk away from her life forever, but now that she actually had to do so, it was much harder than she anticipated. But her parents had spent their life savings to give her this, to grant her wish, and as unruly as she could be, even she could not deny them the execution of this collective family dream. Her father's hand appeared in a crack between the two doors then, signaling her to proceed into the room. Her mother let out an audible sob, hugging Marisa one last time. Marisa glanced down at her, but she couldn't formulate a goodbye in her mind. She walked up to the doors, taking one of the cold metal handles, and, with one final look over her shoulder at her brokenhearted mother, she stepped into her new world.

The room was alive with such rich colours, gold adorning nearly everything inside, with intelligent, witty conversations swirling in the air. There was so much to take in, it was overwhelming. Where to start? Everyone seemed to be in small clusters, there was no one alone for her to target.

Her father took her hand. "Don't worry sweetheart, you'll be just fine. Go get a glass of Tokay from the table over there," he pointed, "and then just stay by yourself and wait for them to approach you. You want to appear very nonchalant, like you've done this a million times. Just slowly make your way around the room; stop to look at paintings and the different décor pieces, and someone will come introduce himself soon, I'm sure of it. Drink no more than two glasses, and take only the gentlemen that kiss your hand when you meet. Your mother and I will be serving all night. If you need help, come find one of us. The other staff know what is happening, so you can send messages through them if need be."

Marisa simply nodded stiffly, too nervous for words.

"Go on now dear, before anyone sees."

She nodded again, plastering what she hoped was a confident indifference on her face, and strode away from him, looking around the room to distract herself from the tears threatening to mist her eyes.

Striding over to the designated table, she delicately picked up a crystal glass full of the shimmering golden liquid. Putting the edge to her lips, she took her first sip, managing to mask her surprise at its sweet, pleasant taste. She had snuck into the kitchen late at night to sample wine before, but she had always found them to have a slightly bitter edge. This was much better. Nevertheless, she was careful to pace herself slowly to make the two glasses last for the whole night. As much as she wanted a closer look at the lord's glamorous friends and colleagues, she denied herself the pleasure, instead turning her back on the crowd to admire a nearby painting like her father had suggested. It was rather dull, she thought; nothing but a washed portrait of the house when it had first been constructed. She was about to continue on to the next when a male voice broke shattered her silent thoughts.

"Good evening."

She spun around quickly to find a man with dark hair and eyes smiling at her. "Hello", she responded, trying to sound much calmer than she felt. He must be at least 20 years her senior.

"I don't believe we've met." He took her hand gently and bent to kiss her porcelain skin. "I am Lord Carlo Boreal. May I ask your name?"

"Marisa", she replied with an innocent grin and batting eyelashes.

"And do you have a last name, Marisa?"

Her story did not include a fake name. This was not good. "Roberts", she decided aloud, working off of her father's first name.

"Well it's lovely to meet you, Marisa Roberts. You must tell me where you've been hiding. Surely I would have noticed you had you been here before."

"Oh, I'm just visiting London. I spend most of my time in the countryside. I have a lovely little place there."

"How charming. So tell me my dear, which man should I congratulate for bringing such a stunning woman to this affair?"

"I'm here on my own actually." She tried to hold the defiance back from infiltrating her tone.

"You don't say! Well what luck! I am alone as well."

Miraculously managing not to roll her eyes, she feigned excited intrigue. "Really?"

"Indeed. Forgive me if I am being too forward, but perhaps you would allow me to be your escort?"

"I would be honored, my lord." A dazzling white smile crossed her face.

Though he took her arm with a gentleman's demeanor, his daemon slithered to face the golden monkey with a hunger glinting in its eyes.

Marisa quickly discovered that she had made an excellent ally in Carlo Boreal. He led her from one cluster to the next, introducing her to a wealth of people. From explorers, to heirs, to scholars, and even those inside the Magisterium: he knew them all. And he was clearly delighted to flaunt his new prize before them. He revered her with same mystified expression she herself had worn the first time she had held the bracelet now clasped around her wrist; that of a dreamer whose beloved vision had dropped into his hands from the skies above.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Marisa?" he asked hopefully between cliques.

"Very much so. You certainly have some fascinating acquaintances."

"Including you, my dear. They all adore you, and who wouldn't?"

"You're too kind." The monkey trotted over to delicately stroke the serpent. Marisa always enjoyed flattery, even when it was so clearly laced with ulterior motives.

"You're too modest."

She smirked inside her mind.

* * *

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Though the introductions continued, Marisa noticed her parents placing row upon row of elegant wooden chairs with velvet seat cushions before a small stage and podium at the front of the room. There was obviously a purpose for this gathering beyond mere socialization. She smiled amicably, nodding from time to time to give the illusion she was listening, but her attention was elsewhere. A small group of chairs had been placed to the right of the podium, and a select group of men were now clustered around them, conversing in hushed voices. Her curiosity, however, would not be kept a bay for too long.

Mere moments later, one of the men stepped up to the microphone, clearing his throat one before speaking. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you could please take your seats."

"What happens now?"

He looked at her quite apologetically. "Oh this part is a tad stuffy I'm afraid. You may find it a little dull."

"Well I cannot decide until I know what I am to see, now can I?" She questioned, arching an impeccably shaped eyebrow.

"No," he chuckled, "I suppose not." He sank into one of the chairs, patting the seat next to him. "You see, there are several very important men present tonight. They have just returned from the north, and are about to give speeches on how their research has progressed, if they have discovered anything new, and what steps they intend to take next. These things are always done at the Institute if any artifacts are recovered or there is crucial evidence to be shown, but rumor has it that little resulted from this particular excursion, so Lord Ainsworth, one of the researchers from the Magisterium, offered the use of his ballroom."

Ah, so she would finally see the lord of the house tonight. And he worked for the Magisterium. Interesting… though not as interesting as this Institute that Lord Boreal spoke of. "And what Institute would that be, Carlo?"

"The Royal Arctic Institute of course. You haven't heard of it before?"

"No, I can't say that I have. As I said, I spend most of my time in the country. It is quite easy to fall out of touch with the mainstream world in such seclusion", she recovered quickly.

"Ah yes," he nodded, "well the Royal Arctic Institute is an establishment for accomplished researchers, explorers, or scholars specializing in the study of the north."

Her face lit up. As a child she had heard many stories of the north. "The north? What do they study there?"

"Oh there's a great many things to investigate: the Samoyeds, Tartars, and right now, the Magisterium is getting quite interested in the ice bears."

"So there are ice bears in the north!"

"Yes, my dear, there most certainly are." He leaned in closer to her, placing a hand on her knee. "They have their own society, their own laws, and their own leader, just as we do."

"Do they have daemons as well?"

"No, no. They do, however, have an amazing ability to work with metal and make armor."

"Have you ever been to the north Carlo?"

"I must admit, I have not, though I do enjoy collecting any artifacts that I have to opportunity to get. That's not so say that I don't have my own sources of investigative interest." He winked.

"And what might they be?"

"That, my dear, is my little secret."

Lord Boreal may have proven slightly more interesting than she had originally judged him to be, but he couldn't hold a candle to the candid recollections of northern excursions being told before the crowd. She absorbed it all in fascinated silence, her thoughts filling with questions and curiosities. Perhaps with Carlo's persuasion, she could one day explore the north. He surely had the connections, and he was surely quite enamored with her; an excellent situation to be in, she concluded. His hand still remained on her knee, but she thought it best to leave it there. Her daemon had clearly grown weary of the serpent's unwavering gaze, but Marisa's fingers through his golden fur soothed all thoughts of growling from his mind. While she would have been content to listen to the speakers all night, she could sense the monkey's relief when applause echoed for the final man. Her daemon leapt up on her lap, clamoring to his favourite perch on her arm. His eyes implored her to seek another companion, but she gave him a stern look and a barely perceptible shake of her head. Carlo brought a lot of opportunities for them, and that was the end of the discussion, as far as she was concerned. It wouldn't be forever, and for the time being, he was tolerable and still had much left to teach her.

All around her the guests were rising from their seats, striding over to Lord Ainsworth for a brief thank you before bidding adieu to their friends. Marisa stood slowly, unsure how to proceed. The plan had reached its most critical point. She turned to face Carlo.

"Can I offer you a lift?" he asked, taking her hand.

"Thank you for the offer, but I'm afraid it would be quite out of your way."

"Oh that's not a problem, where are you going?"

"Back to the country," she said sadly.

The disappointment was evident on his face. "So soon?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I would love to say longer, but I only had accommodations arranged for up to tonight, and I couldn't find anywhere in town with a vacancy."

"Not even for one night?"

"I know, it sounds unreal doesn't it?" she smiled coyly, "I couldn't believe it."

"Well, I do happen to have a lovely guest suite at home. I understand if it would make you uncomfortable, but you are more than welcome to it."

She was quite aware that she would not end up in the guest suite, but there was a desperate longing in his eyes that she almost pitied. Her sparkling smile returned to her face. "How could I possibly turn down such generosity?"

* * *

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Marisa lay wrapped in sheets of soft Egyptian cotton, wearing a negligee of the finest silk. An ornate chandelier descended from the ceiling above her, velvet rugs below, and a tray of gourmet dinner sat on the nightstand to her right. All of this at her fingertips, yet she was still unsatisfied. Her daemon sat perched on the window ledge, looking out at the hazy English evening, but Marisa was not interested. Lord Boreal was certainly a man of high esteem, a man with many beautiful possessions and a hopeless weakness for her, but unfortunately she also found him to be an insufferable bore. Even worse, she was beginning to feel his banality seeping into her. She had not even risen from bed yesterday. What was the point? She would spend all day sitting alone among his prized artifacts, all of which she had long lost interest in, until he arrived to take her to another engagement, where she was seen and not heard. And then she would end up right back here in this bed.

It had been well over a year since she had left her childhood home behind, and she felt that she had accomplished remarkably little in that time. She had left Lord Boreal twice for promises of excursions to the north and integration with the Magisterium, but both had proved even greater disappointments than Carlo, who always welcomed her back with open arms when she'd grown weary of her new fling. He had far greater power than he ever demonstrated to her, of this she was sure, and if he wasn't going to use it on his own, it was time she twisted his arm. She was suffocating in this beautiful prison. She needed to get out of here and into the world, and he could make that happen. He had the connections. All he needed was a little clever persuasion, of which Marisa happened to be an expert. Tonight was the night, she decided. Tonight she would make her move. He was due to return home at any moment, so she fluffed the pillows and crawled out from under the sheets, smoothing them back down. Climbing back on the bed, she purposefully tousled her hair, lying back against the pillows in anticipation of her lover, for she had just heard the heavy front doors close.

Footsteps strode up the stairs and down the hall, pausing while the door handle turned and the hinges creaked slightly. He entered the room without a glance toward the bed, unaware of her presence. He removed his shoes then straightened to loosen his tie, tossing it on the chair in front of the vanity, along with his jacket. It was then that he saw her enticing reflection in the glimmering glass. A sultry smile spread across her rosy lips.

"Good evening, Carlo." Her voice was low, seductive.

"Marisa", he breathed, spinning around to face her.

"I missed you," she lied effortlessly, "you work such long hours. You must be exhausted. Come lie down with me."

He nodded numbly, under her trance, striding over to the bed and climbing in next to her. She rolled onto her side, draping a leg over his, allowing her negligee to slide up her thigh. Propping her head up with one hand, her other toyed with the buttons on his shirt, delicately unfastening them one by one.

"Do you care for me Carlo?" she asked with doe-eyed innocence.

"You know I do darling."

She shifted to straddle his hips. "And you know how much I do for you."

"Of course", he replied, his eyes slipping shut.

"And I really don't ask for much, do I?"

"N-n-no," he stammered, "not at all."

Leaning forward, she lowered her chest to his, her lips hovering so closely above his that he could feel her breath on his face. "So surely you could do one little thing for me."

"Anything. Anything for you."

"At the last gala I heard Lord Phipps mention something about an expedition to the north. You know him don't you? He's with the Magisterium."

"Yes, I believe we've met on a few occasions", he muttered, his hands roaming over her body, sliding her narrow straps off her shoulders.

"You could convince him to take me along, couldn't you Carlo? It would make me so happy. I'm sure I could be useful; you know I do love particle metaphysics, and I've studied it quite extensively on my own. They all respect you so. If anyone could convince them, it would be you."

"That is true."

"Please darling," she moved her lips to whisper in his ear, "please, for me. You know you will be rewarded for your kindness. Please."

"Very well then, you shall go my dear."

She finally pressed his lips to his. "Thank you Carlo. You've pleased me." She kissed him again, harder this time, and he responded hungrily, gratefully accepting his prize.

* * *

Dressed in a glimmering aubergine gown of smooth satin, Marisa glided into the elaborate hall on the arm of Lord Boreal, her pristine pearls reflecting the light from an enormous chandelier above. She surveyed the room with the eyes of a lioness on the savannah plains, her monkey daemon keeping an eye on the guests behind them. Though many cast alluring glances her way, there was only one man on her mind tonight.

"Which one is he Carlo?"

"Patience my dear, he may not be here just yet."

"Well I dare say he should be. Fashionably late is drawing to a close."

He chuckled, "it always closes as soon as you walk in the room."

"As it rightfully should."

But he was no longer looking at her; something, or someone, had caught his attention over her shoulder.

"I think…" he leaned slightly to the right, "yes, that's him right over there."

She turned around eagerly, "where? Which one?"

Without a word, he took her hand and started forward. At once a tall, grey haired man caught sight of them, excusing himself from a tight circle of colleagues to greet them.

"Lord Boreal! How nice to see you again." He extended his hand.

"You as well, Lord Phipps," Carlo responded, accepting the handshake.

"And you," Lord Phipps began, turning to Marisa, "must be the lovely lady accompanying our little excursion to the north."

"Indeed I am; that is if you'll have me."

"It would be my pleasure –"

"Marisa."

"Marisa", he repeated, lifting her gloved hand to his lips. "I hear this is your first trip to Svalbard."

"Yes it is. I'm quite looking forward to it. I've always wanted to go."

"You're in for a treat. I'm certain you'll love it."

"As am I."

"Lord Boreal, you wouldn't mind if I borrowed Marisa to introduce her to the others on the expedition, would you?"

A tense smile crossed Carlo's face. "Of course not… as long as I can have her back before the evening is done."

Marisa laughed and swatted his chest playfully. "Don't be silly Carlo. You know I always find my way back to you."

And with a wink over her shoulder, she disappeared into the crowd with her catch.


	7. Chapter 7

Marisa and Lord Phipps sat together on a luxurious, plush leather loveseat, surrounded by suited men in similar arm chairs. He introduced her to each, though they all looked and sounded remarkably like replicas of the same person to her: not particularly attractive, bright, or interesting. Nevertheless, she shook the hand of each one, batting her thick lashes and flashing her devilish smile, though her daemon was blatantly unimpressed with the advances of the others' companions.

"And this, Marisa, is Edward Coulter."

Her icy blue eyes met the man's piercing dark ones and immediately she liked him. The desire to claim her as his own was clear in his hungry gaze.

"Lovely to meet you", she said politely, in a low, sensual tone.

He bowed his head. "The pleasure is mine."

"Edward here," Lord Phipps gestured vaguely in the man's direction, keeping his eyes on Marisa, "is an ambitious, budding politician, a friend of the King himself as a matter of fact."

Finally the golden monkey perked up, glancing over at the chocolate mink at the man's feet. It was rather mediocre, he thought. They could do better, but he got the distinct feeling that Marisa had quite a different opinion. He knew better than to disagree with her, so with a look of mild disdain, he sat himself down several steps closer to the little creature.

Marisa took no notice of her daemon. "Well now, that is quite impressive. I assume you have been to the North before then. May I be so bold as to ask what brings you along on this occasion?"

An impeccable smile crossed his face. "The armored bears, my dear. What else?"

"And what do you seek to accomplish with them?"

"Only to discover what they wish to accomplish. I hope to speak to the bear king, and send regards from our own king."

"How diplomatic."

"I wouldn't be a very good politician if I weren't diplomatic."

He was the target she had been aiming for. Surely he could deliver her to the top. A friend of the King, a politician, wealthy, and an obvious affinity for her; what more could she ask for in a man? "I suppose that is true."

"I'd love to hear about your initiatives for the expedition, Marisa. Would you care to join me for a drink on the balcony?"

"Of course." She rose and turned, addressing the group, "thank you for your courteous introductions, Lord Phipps. Please excuse me gentleman. I look forward to seeing you all upon our departure next week."

She delicately placed a hand on the arm Edward offered her, her daemon grudgingly giving the mink a little stroke, and followed him to the open glass doors. Snatching two glasses of golden Tokay from a passing servant, he passed her one before leading them out into the night air. She walked straight to the edge, resting her arms on the railing while taking a long sip from her glass, keeping her back to Edward. He came up behind her slowly, not touching her, but so close she could feel his breath on her neck.

"Tell me, Marisa, what is a young woman like yourself doing in a room full of old scholars."

"Well it's not just old scholars," she replied coyly, "you're here after all."

"But you didn't know I'd be here."

She spun around, their faces only an inch apart. "And you didn't know I'd be here, yet here we are."

"Who else is here, Marisa? Your husband?"

Holding up her hand, she smiled innocently. "I'm not married."

"I might like to change that."

"Just try."

He moved to kiss her, but she quickly turned to give him her cheek. Pulling back, he looked at her quizzically.

"Good things come to those who wait, Edward."

"Something tells me you're trouble", he said with a smile on his face.

"And you can't wait to find out."

With a turn of her heel, she was headed back inside, leaving him alone with his daemon and desires.

Sweeping through the crowd, Marisa searched for Carlo. She intended to make a quick exit before her new project came looking for more. Lord Boreal, however, was no where to be seen. Shifting from cluster to cluster she questioned his whereabouts, but no one had seen him since shortly after her departure. Surely he wouldn't have left without her; he knew what such an action would cost him. Running out of resources, she eventually stopped a passing servant, inquiring about a man of Boreal's description. The young man's voice seemed to disappear in her presence, but she was able to surmise from his stuttered fragments that she was heading in the right direction. Nearly back at the balcony where she started, frustration was beginning to set in. She was about to give up and go wait in the carriage in a huff when she spotted a solemn figure on an ornate bench near the doors. Had he been there all along? She could have walked right by him when leaving Edward. Without a word, she sat down to his side, not even giving him a glance.

A moment passed before he spoke. "You're leaving me again, aren't you Marisa?"

"Soon, I expect."

"He is rising up the ladder Marisa, but do not mistake the reason. His connections are everything. You will grow tired of him; he is not of the intelligence you require for prolonged interest."

"Perhaps so."

"And then you intend to come back again?"

She looked at him now, placing a hand on his arm whilst the golden monkey rubbed his golden fur against the snake. "You know I'll always come back to you Carlo. You ask repeatedly, but you always know that."

"But will I let you?"

"You will. You won't want to, but you will."

"Why are you so certain?"

"Why are you not?"

He did not respond, merely breaking eye contact to gaze blankly across the room.

"Carlo, why do you dwell on the time I am gone when you still have me here? It won't be the first time, and it won't be the last, but for the time being, I'm still yours." Standing, she extended a hand to him. "Come, take me home. There's no reason tonight can't be ours."

He would have liked to hesitate, or even to refuse altogether, but she drained all the willpower from his being. Her words, her scent, everything about her was intoxicating, silencing the voice of his best interest. And so he took her hand, and allowed her to lead him back into her seductive labyrinth.


	8. Chapter 8

Striding toward the looming Magisterium zeppelin, Marisa was powerless to mask her excitement. She could only imagine how thrilling it would be to step into the crisp white snow upon their arrival. Carlo had spoiled her extravagantly the past week, in what she assumed was an attempt to lure her away from Edward. Brilliant furs were delivered to her door, and new dresses had been tailored. And yet she felt no remorse for accepting these gifts, knowing the ploy was futile. He had even sent her in his best carriage that he usually reserved for evening affairs. Enjoying the luxury, she had instructed the driver to take his time; let her have one last look at the city before she entered the land of ice. Consequently, the men had all arrived before her, with one noticeable exception, but she hardly found that a surprise. Approaching the group, she waved the servant with her luggage towards another at the door to the ferry.

"Good afternoon gentlemen," she purred, "I trust we're almost ready to depart."

Lords Phipps was the quickest to respond, much to the displeasure of their other traveling companions. "Of course, my dear. We're just waiting on Edward Coulter."

"Not anymore, you're not", called a voice several yards behind their cluster.

Marisa glanced over her shoulder, her daemon scampering up her arm for a better look. The man's eyes were squarely on hers, there was no mistaking it.

"Terribly sorry to hold you up, I was trapped in a rather important meeting that ran late."

"Not to worry Edward, I only just arrived as well", she replied with a coy smile.

"Ah, but I'm sure most gentleman are content to wait for your arrival. There is considerably less complacency to wait for a politician."

"I suppose that is true."

"Now then, shall we board the ferry?" Without waiting for a response, he extended a hand to Marisa, "please, allow me."

She placed her delicate hand in his. "Very well then."

* * *

Clinging to the railing, Marisa had been looking out over the land since the moment they had reached the peak of their ascent. Often during her time with Lord Boreal she witnessed the flight of many zeppelins from behind the bedroom window, but never had she been given the privilege of riding in one. Watching the earth's patchwork slip away behind them exhilarated her: she was finally seeing the rest of the world outside of the stuffy London she knew. She could feel someone approaching, but there was no need to turn around. She knew it was him. He was delightfully relentless in garnering her attention. An outstretched hand held a glass of deep red wine which she accepted without a word.

"Have you ever ridden in a ferry before, Marisa?" Taking a spot on the rail next to her, he aimlessly watched the scenery, though she knew it held no interest for him.

"Of course", she smiled, the lie flowing effortlessly from pristine ruby lips.

"Magnificent creation, aren't they?"

"Yes, quite. I never grow tired of them."

He stepped back. "Would you care to take a seat with me?"

"I suppose." Brushing past him, she sat herself down on the plush loveseat.

Pleased with her choice, he quickly joined her, sitting much closer than necessary she noted.

"Tell me Marisa, what are you aiming to accomplish on this little excursion?"

"Whatever I see fit of course."

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

_Carlo was right_, she mused; this man wasn't as sharp as he liked to think. "I don't have any fixed objectives. I work for no one but myself. My only goal," she paused, leaning in, "is to see and experience as much as humanly possible."

"O-oh, I, s-see", he stammered, unable to tear his eyes from the luscious red lips so close to his own.

Enjoying this game, she placed a hand on his thigh. "But that's not really what you want to talk to me about, is it Edward?"

"N-no."

"What is it then?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You're… you're not married."

She could barely contain her laughter as he visibly tried to collect his thoughts. "No."

"But you're spoken for?"

Abruptly sitting up, her face became serious. "No one speaks for me, Edward, and I belong to no one but myself. If you're asking whether or not I am romantically involved at the moment, the answer would be no."

"Yes, yes, that's what I was asking", he took her hand, looking up at her with that charming, politician's smile, "I'm terribly sorry for any implications otherwise."

She was careful to maintain a steely gaze for a moment longer before conceding. "Think nothing of it."

He kissed her hand apologetically and she smirked, amused by his blatantly chivalrous acts thus far. The poor dear was working awfully hard. Perhaps she should 'throw him a bone', so to speak.

"Edward, dear."

"Yes?"

Quick as lightning, her soft lips were pressed against his. He reached up to touch her face, but with a flash of blonde hair she was gone, disappearing into the hallway to the next room where the other explores sat chatting amicably.


End file.
